


Overland Blues

by AndyAO3



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Cooking, Established Relationship, Fluff, Foreplay, Humor, M/M, Mild Angst, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-27
Updated: 2016-11-17
Packaged: 2018-08-27 06:34:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8390962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndyAO3/pseuds/AndyAO3
Summary: A series of unrelated McGenji Week scribbles of varying length and subject matter. After a while I decided to just roll with the prompts and ignore any sort of continuity, so there's no rhyme nor reason to them.





	1. 1: touch

**Author's Note:**

> Prompts are in the chapter titles. This one's been bouncing around in my brain for a while, but I decided it fit the prompt just fine and decided to include it anyhow. I've got two more ready to post after this, and then I'll start working on the next ones. I can't help it, McGenji is my guilty pleasure.

Fresh from a nasty mission involving bomb defusal in the London underground, McCree was a little bit too tired to be perceptive when he got back to Gibraltar. He'd been gone for a few days, and even though the base was abuzz with something or other (it had to do with Lena? Maybe?) he wasn't really paying attention at dinner. He did notice that Genji wasn't there, but he didn't think anything of it at the time. Just went straight back to his bunk afterward and collapsed, really.

Thus the next morning gave him quite a shock when, still half-asleep and clad in his lazy civvies of a t-shirt and sweatpants, he ran into someone he'd never seen before in the hall. Literally. Damn near tripped over the guy. Another surprise: this guy caught him before he could stumble. A strong arm looped around his waist, held him fast. He _oof_ ed, scrambled to straighten out as he blinked down at the newcomer.

Green hair and a bright orange scarf. Huh. Did this kid know he looked like a carrot? McCree broke out his finest grin as the newcomer quickly pulled away. "Well howdy." He made a motion to tip a hat that he wasn't actually wearing, bowing his head. "You must be new 'round here."

The newcomer's brow furrowed in confusion before he offered up a wry smirk that McCree would swear was deadly. He had dark, strong eyebrows, and the prettiest brown eyes that McCree had ever seen. Perfect eyeliner, too. "I am hardly new to this place, McCree," he said. "I take it you do not recognize me?"

McCree blinked. "Uh, can't say I do." He skritched at his beard, frowning. Voice was familiar. The accent, the clothes. "This a precursor to Kimiko comin' back? You one'a hers?"

"Hah!" Probably not then. "You think I am that young?"

"Well hell, ain't like I'm all that good at guessin' how old somebody is." For all McCree knew, her kids were in their teens, and this guy could be anywhere between sixteen and thirty. Not like McCree was any less babyfaced when he was clean-shaven. S'what the beard was for. "Could throw me a bone."

"Mm. I suppose..." After thinking on it for a moment, the newcomer's hands came up to adjust his scarf so that it was wrapped around his face and head-- his hair, his ears, and the lower part of his face were covered, leaving everything between his forehead and his upper lip exposed.

McCree's heart skipped a beat. No. Couldn't be.

"I could speak into a cup to replicate the sound of my voice for you," Genji said, smiling as he let the scarf fall. "The voice you know me to have, rather."

McCree stared for a long moment, having trouble finding words. "How?"

"It was Miss Oxton's idea. I confess that I do not know the specifics."

"So it's some kinda... Time shit, I guess?" A nod. "Ain't gonna kill you, right?"

Genji laughed. "No."

"Good lord." McCree began to reach for him, stopping a good half a foot short; the urge to touch was almost overwhelming. Genji looked so soft, so small. Untouched by the world. "I can't stop lookin' at'cha," McCree confessed.

"There is no fault in that."

"Nice to see you ain't lost your sense'a modesty."

"I have no reason to be modest like this, McCree." Genji paused. "What do you think of me as I am now?"

"Thinkin' that Hanzo musta been a real heartless bastard back in the day if he was able to hurt a face like that," McCree answered honestly. It wasn't all he was thinking, but it was one of the things he was thinking. "I also kinda think you look like a carrot."

Genji scoffed, trying and failing to look unamused. "Be serious."

Serious? That'd mean either admitting to things Genji already knew, or giving up a lot more than McCree wanted to. "You're askin' the wrong person if you want serious, sweetheart."

"Perhaps I value your serious opinion more than that of others."

"Can't be right. You've got Zenyatta, Angie."

" _Jesse_." The sound of his name cut through McCree's thoughts like a knife. "Please. Humor me."

Shit. Fine. "Honestly?" McCree waited for Genji's nod. "I think you're beautiful. Prettiest damn thing I've ever seen. Seems kinda redundant to even say it."

Genji hummed. He looked disappointed, like the response wasn't what he'd expected. McCree's thoughts were going a mile a minute trying to puzzle out why, how to fix it; Genji's fake smile looked downright heartbreaking. "I see," he said.

"Always thought that, though," McCree added after a while. "Just, figured I'd mention."

That only pushed Genji further into his own thoughts, making him frown. "Liar."

"M'not lyin'."

"You are. You always do, if you think it will make me feel better." Genji ducked his head. "Forgive me, I should not have asked."

McCree winced. "Ah, hell." When the urge to touch hit him again, he didn't resist it a second time, moving to card his fingers through Genji's hair. It was so soft, and Genji only froze for an instant before he was relaxing and leaning into the touch like a cat. "Ain't no call for forgiveness if y'ain't done nothin' wrong, sweetheart." Then, "--and I ain't lyin' either."

Genji brought a hand up to tug McCree's down enough to cup his cheek; McCree obliged him, stroking the skin near the corner of his eye. He'd gone quiet, but he hadn't retreated into himself as far as McCree could tell. In fact, it seemed for all the world like Genji was content to simply melt into that touch, to stop thinking altogether. With how much of a mess he could be if allowed to think in circles too much, that was probably a good thing.

The gunslinger had to wonder just how long it had been since Genji had felt any kind of simple touch like that, if Angela had rebuilt the cyborg to the point where he could even feel properly at all. If she hadn't, McCree was gonna give her a stern talking-to about considering some QOL changes, 'cause that shit was important. "Genji?"

"Mm?" Genji looked up, blinking. McCree was struck once again by how pretty his eyes were, framed by long lashes and striking eyeliner as they were. It was the eyes that had thrown him initially. He'd seen Genji with his mask off, but not with make-up of any sort. Certainly not without the subtly gleaming cybernetics that allowed him to see clearly through the damage Hanzo had done, or the extensive scarring.

"How long is this gonna last?" He wasn't going to ask how long until he had his cyborg back, because that would be rude. Also? Genji had never really been his, and this was the closest McCree was usually allowed to get outside of the occasional hug.

It was rare that Genji allowed a touch to linger that long. "Miss Oxton has told me that I have one day before I start to destabilise," he told McCree, opening his eyes but not looking up.

"When's the day end?"

"Tomorrow," Genji said. "I must return to where I was in my personal timeline before oh-six-hundred."

McCree did a little bit of mental math. That meant Genji had been human for a little over three hours before bumping into him. "Got anythin' you wanna do before then?"

"Yes, but you will think me a fool for admitting to it."

"Don't think I could ever think'a you as foolish, darlin'."

"Then..." Genji trailed off, taking a moment to think before he spoke again. "Then yes, there are things I would like to do."

"Alright, shoot. Lay it it on me." McCree wasn't sure what he was expecting, but he braced himself for something that would be borderline-immoral. Whatever it was, he'd be supportive.

He wasn't expecting Genji to yank him down and kiss him.

 


	2. 2: alternate universe (college)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it's a college AU what do you even expect

It was a tale as old as time: scruffy college kid meets beautiful foreign exchange student and falls head over heels in the process of one-on-one tutoring in a shared class. Jesse wasn't sure whether he should be ashamed or what, especially since Genji wasn't exactly in the habit of being a good person. They'd only met because Genji had been throwing wadded-up balls of paper at the back of his head to get his attention, followed by a barked "gimme your notes" like the brat had never heard of asking nicely. Hell, the guy drove a bright green Kawasaki Ninja for chrissakes; if that wasn't the epitome of douchebag vehicles, Jesse didn't know what was.

He was also pretty sure that Genji was the son of a mobster or something, but that was mostly just a hunch. As in, Genji didn't exactly make a secret of it, but with how much of brat he was, it was hard for Jesse to take it seriously. Could just be another rich kid trying to talk up his own past, make himself sound dangerous and glamorous to the foreigners.

(Also, every time Genji agreed to teach him a bit of Japanese, it was always something crude or insulting, so clearly the guy wasn't above lying for shits'n'giggles.)

So why, then, had Jesse invited Genji back to his place? If asked, he'd say it was for tutoring. But it was towards the end of the semester, so there was no tutoring to be done. Really, it was a bad movie night.

"May I use your shower?" Genji asked as he came in the door, already stripping off his jacket as he went. Jesse had to look away quickly to avoid getting an eyeful as Genji's shirt was quick to follow, but he caught a glimpse of a full back tattoo anyway. "This heat wave is murderous."

Jesse swallowed thickly. "Yeah, sure. Uh, down the hall and to your left." He went to put his hat on the coat rack as Genji retreated down the hall, but the brat's coat and shirt were on the usual hook for it. A long minute was spent debating whether to put his hat on top of it. Would that be rude? Possessive? Would Genji take it the wrong way? Ah, hell.

His hat was still in his hand when he tentatively sat down on the couch; he left it on one of the armrests after coming up empty on alternatives, just as the water went on in the bathroom. Whatever happened, he was not going to imagine his friend naked. Definitely not.

Thinking about that tattoo he'd gotten a peek at totally didn't count. Weren't tattoos like that a yakuza thing? More evidence that Genji wasn't lying about his background, if so. Damn was he ever toned--

A door down the hall opened, then slammed shut; moments later, Gabe was walking down the hall, putting on his hoodie. Jesse blinked owlishly at him. "Where you goin' in such a hurry?"

Gabriel didn't look at Jesse right away, his attention caught instead by the unfamiliar shirt and jacket on his coat hanger. He frowned deeply for a second before turning away. "Look, mijo," he began, "I'm happy for you, but I'm not too big on the idea of sitting around here and listening to you two fuck, and I'm not about to get you a hotel room for the night either."

"We're not--"

"Right, sure you're not. I'm gonna head over to Morrison's place, you've got my number if something happens." Gabe pulled his beanie out of the pocket of his hoodie and tugged it on. "There's supplies under the bathroom sink. Do _not_ fuck prettyboy without a condom, got it?"

Jesse's face felt like it was on fire. "I-- alright?"

This seemed to satisfy Gabriel, who rolled his eyes and headed back for the door. Jesse could swear he heard a mutter of _can't believe he fell for some jock with a rice burner_ before it closed. He was pretty sure Genji would be offended by the comment about the motorcycle.

Several minutes later, the water shut off and Genji came out wearing clothes that were clearly stolen from Jesse's closet. "Did I miss anything?" he asked, cheery as ever.

Jesse had to wonder if this kind of temptation was what Hell was like.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> later, genji plops in jesse's lap and demands to know why jesse is being so thick, because he was supposed to walk in on genji in the shower and genji had it all planned out as to what he'd do next after that


	3. 3: domestic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> food glorious food

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Canon doesn't say Genji can't eat, it says he can't appreciate it like he used to/it's not the same. I take this to mean that he had to have his face rebuilt and has little to no sense of taste or smell. Growing up as a rich boy meant he probably didn't know that much about food prep at all coming into Overwatch, but he had plenty of time to learn on his own afterward.
> 
> it's also really cute imagining Genji putting together boxed lunches and solid breakfasts and nice dinners for the Overwatch peeps. I'd certainly trust him on cooking duty more than I'd trust Reinhardt tbh

Years back, when Genji had first come to Overwatch, he hadn't known how to cook. He had spoken with McCree at length about the sorts of foods he'd enjoyed at home, the smells, the tastes, the textures. It had been McCree's suggestion then that they make something to cheer Genji up, and that suggestion had become a handful of lumpy and clumsily-shaped _onigiri_ , made with the wrong sort of rice and different filling than Genji was used to.

He hadn't been able to taste it then, nor was he any better off now in that regard. But he'd learned, with time, to make things that had a similar mouth-feel to what he remembered, a similar texture. Time with the omnics in Nepal had helped - after all, there were plenty of omnic chefs in the world, many of whom were considered to be quite good - and he'd gotten better at cooking and working with food in general in spite of not being able to taste or smell any of it. It helped to know he could make things with his hands on the days when his hands didn't quite feel like they were his own.

So when he got back to the Watchpoint after the recall, and it turned out that the base was lacking a decent chef, it was Genji who took up part of the cooking duties-- and McCree who volunteered to help soon after, not realizing that Genji had been practicing.

"Cut those into thin slices-- half a centimeter, at most," Genji instructed, handing McCree a knife and nodding to a pack of carrots. "Wash and skin them first, please."

McCree blinked. "Alright," he said, rolling up his sleeves, giving his hands a quick rinse. He only half paid attention as he picked up one of the fresh carrots and ran the cold water over it, dirt sloughing off under his calloused fingers. He was too busy watching what Genji was doing. "Ain't gonna crack those open?"

"No." Genji dropped a few eggs, one by one, into a pot of hot water. "Morrison prefers deviled eggs, and they must be hard boiled for that."

"Who's the carrots for, then?"

"A _bent_ _ō_ for Miss Song, for when she returns from her mission." Genji explained. Not anything traditional or local for her, but nothing she'd find distasteful either. "Her rabbit icon. The carrots will be used for the face. The rest will be used as filling for what you would call a pot pie, for Miss Oxton."

"Huh." McCree thought on that for a bit before he spoke up again. He'd been washing a single carrot for far longer than he needed to; Genji was glad that the mask made it easier to keep his smile to himself. "What about, uh... Angela?"

"Something you would probably call hash browns, with mushrooms in a cream sauce. Sadly, I could not find veal for her." Well, he could, but not on the sort of budget Winston had allowed him to have to make food with.

McCree just hummed, nodding to himself. He'd finally stopped washing the carrot and moved on to skinning it, holding it in his metal hand and working the knife with his real one. Genji, meanwhile, had already moved on to work on Miss Oxton's dish-- the outer crust of a meat pie, no bigger than the palm of his hand. He was using a muffin tin to ensure that the shapes held, and would later wrap the outer edges in foil to prevent them from burning. "And uh, what about me?"

"You?" Genji looked up, smiling beneath his mask. "Which meal?"

"Dinner," McCree answered.

"A steak. Wrapped in bacon, seasoned heavily. Mashed potatoes with so much butter that Doctor Ziegler would surely disapprove. All to be topped with mushrooms in gravy."

The cowboy's eyes lit up. He seemed to have forgotten momentarily about the carrot in his hands. "Brown gravy?"

"Of course." Genji had done particularly thorough research on what McCree might consider to be good cooking.

All worth it for the way McCree beamed at him. "Darlin', I love you."

"Don't say that yet. You get to do the dishes."

"Aw, hell, I'd do the dishes a thousand times over if y'keep promisin' me meals like that."

Genji huffed. Thankful for the mask once again-- he was blushing.


	4. 4. reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "oh no he's cute"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to write a whole new thing for this but I ended up recycling an older bit of writing that I'd had sitting around in my folder for fucking EVER and had never initially intended to post. I headcanon that Genji snores and that this snoring is adorable. Pff.

The new Overwatch was a little on the sloppy side, if McCree were to be honest. Missions didn't usually run that late without there being a serious fuck-up involved. He hadn't meant to get back to base at two in the morning. Sleeping in the transport led to him not being able to sleep when he got back, which led to him wandering the halls instead of heading back to his bunk like everyone else.

Light and the muffled sound of voices drew him to the common room; somebody'd left the TV on, probably. The door was open, so he walked right in.

And right there on the couch, there was Genji. Fast asleep, tiny kitten-soft snores filtering through the audio pickup in his mask. Laying on the dilapidated couch lengthwise with his head propped up on the arm of it, arms folded over his chest. Just like the day they'd met, he looked so small, so cute on that great big Reinhardt-sized couch. So peaceful. Had he always slept so soundly? McCree couldn't remember, didn't think so.

He caught himself smiling, cut himself off mid-thought before he could follow through on the urge to scoop Genji up in a hug and kiss him right on that shiny faceplate of his; to disturb the ninja's sleep felt like a sin, especially knowing how little of it Genji tended to get.

It was only after several moments that McCree even thought to question the appropriateness of something like that. Then it hit him, out of the left field: he was thinking about kissing his friend. Actually considering it. In fact, the more he dwelled, the more he wondered about the details of it, trying to imagine it without the mask and helmet.

Not good. Very not good.

As quietly as he could, McCree left the room and crept back down the halls to his quarters. He needed to think, and more importantly, he needed to get out of there before Genji woke up and caught him staring. He wasn't sure he could formulate an excuse that well given the circumstances.

That night, he didn't sleep a wink.

\---

Tiredness had set into McCree's bones come breakfast, leaving him sluggish and largely monosyllabic as he accepted a plate of pancakes (Lena had cooking duty) and made his way to his customary seat in the Gibraltar mess hall. A slice of bacon and two sunny side up eggs in the shape of a smile stared up at him from on top of the stack, and he gave a bleary-eyed frown right back.

"Morbid," came a comment from behind him just as he was stabbing one of the 'eyes' with a fork; McCree damn near jumped out of his chair. "And surely bland, by your standards. No salt first?"

His guts started doing backflips. _Genji_. "Cook says we're fresh out," he replied; his voice cracked halfway through the sentence and it made him wince. "Thought we had some in storage, so it didn't go on the grocery list. Come to find out it's gone an' turned into a brick."

The ninja hummed, sitting down next to him as always. Like it hadn't been years since they'd seen each other. Like he didn't notice that McCree was a bundle of nerves, all tied up in knots at seeing him again. Genji moved just as smoothly as McCree remembered, just as silently. He had a way of making McCree feel large and ungainly in comparison, a big clumsy hound sat next to a graceful cat. Or, more appropriately, a graceful _dragon_.

McCree was more than a little annoyed to discover that this confirmation of Genji being way out of his league - a dragon he could never tame - did nothing to kill his interest. If anything it spurred it on further; he'd always been weird like that.

"I was hoping to run into you yesterday, but you were on a mission," Genji said after a pause. "It is good to see you again, McCree."

"Well, most'a me." McCree gestured to his left arm with his fork, swirling the yolk in with the white of the egg he'd poked before taking a chunk out of it along with a good forkful of pancake.

He shoved the whole lump in his mouth at once and Genji chuckled at the display. "I noticed, though I was more concerned about why you saw fit to let a squirrel live on your face," the ninja teased.

McCree pouted, swallowing the mouthful of syrup-less pancake and bland egg just so he could respond. "Hey, it's better than bein' a grown-ass man with a babyface."

"Maybe I liked you with a baby's face. It was cute."

It was their usual banter, so why were McCree's insides doing somersaults at being called cute? (Maybe because he was just realizing that Genji had always teased like that. Maybe because he was starting to wonder if he'd just been stupid all along or it was just wishful thinking coupled with Genji just generally being Like That.) "Ain't right for a man in his late thirties, partner," he said. "You can get away with bein' cute, what with bein' deadlier'n a rattlesnake. Me? Ain't gonna intimidate nobody lookin' like a pudgy-ass twenty-five year old."

Genji poked him in the side and got a squawk out of him. Right where that pudge was most prominent. "I noticed that too." Like the cat that got the goddamn cream. "Life outside of Blackwatch must not be treating you too badly."

"Eh, it's got its ups an' downs. Aside from the arm an' bein' an outlaw, it ain't so bad." Except for how mind-numbingly quiet and lonely it was, but McCree didn't think being lonely was a legitimate complaint. "Hell, even bein' an outlaw has its perks. Lost track'a how many times havin' such a high bounty got me free coffee at some place where the locals thought I'd kill 'em all as soon as look at 'em."

"Usually I am refused service when I attempt such things."

"Then remind me to take you out for a free dinner courtesy'a my bounty sometime," McCree said before he could stop himself. Then, because Genji's reaction was to snicker, not balk, he continued, "I'm sure we could find a real nice sushi place. Doubt it'd be genuine this far from home, but it'd be somethin'."

Genji's smile was audible from the way he spoke. "There is no need. I can prepare my own now." He chuckled. "But, thank you. For offering."

Huh. Genji'd learned how to cook while he was away, then? That was something new. Made McCree wonder what else he didn't know. "Well then, oughta show me sometime. Ain't like you can taste your own cookin'. Maybe I could offer up some useful feedback."

"I would like that," Genji said. Then, more quietly, he added: "It's good to see you again, Jesse. I missed you."

McCree smiled, looping a friendly arm around those slim shoulders and giving the cyborg a lopsided, loose hug for about half as long as he would with anyone else (Genji tended to get twitchy about physical contact that lingered for too long, if memory served). "Missed you too, sweetheart," he said.

He told himself that he was just imagining the way Genji leaned into it. Had to've. So he must've been imagining the little slump in Genji's posture when he pulled away, too. All in his head.

(Later, Genji would tell him in no uncertain terms that it hadn't been in his head, and that his head had instead been up his own ass. When told this, McCree had to concede that this was a far more likely scenario for most situations where the previous logic applied; Genji would then tweak his ear and tell him that his head was, in fact, still up his ass, and that he needed to stop making himself out to be the only idiot in every situation ever.)

(Then McCree would ask if this made Genji the idiot, and Genji would tweak his ear again and tell him to shut up.)

　

 


	5. 5. family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genji has concerns. McCree helps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was one of two ideas I had for this chapter. Believe it or not, this was the LESS feelsy one. The more feelsy one involved a bike accident in the AU I started back in part 2, which would turn into a long thing about found families versus real ones (and why real ones can sometimes be so shit that the found one becomes the one a person turns to). Clumsy proposals would have happened. However, given last night's events, I decided that any plotline involving potentially being shipped out of the country due to losing a visa - in spite of circumstances that could make shipping said person out potentially dangerous to their health and/or well-being, which would have been part of the plot's conflict along with a lot of other things - would be a little too on the nose. Plus, it would've been really long, and I don't have the brains for long things at the moment.
> 
> You get this one instead. It has dragons in it, and fluff. I feel like we all need a little fluff right now.

"Now what's a pretty li'l thing like you doin' in a place like this?"

Jesse's drawl was familiar and warm through Genji's auditory sensors, filtering down from above him on the railing-surrounded balcony overlooking the strait. Genji himself was perched on a rock just below, trying and failing to meditate; beneath his mask he smiled at the sound of the cowboy's voice, relieved to have a distraction. "Hello, Jesse."

"Makin' me kinda nervous down there, sweetheart," Jesse told him. "Gotta say, I prefer the rooftop perchin' over this."

"If I perch on a roof, then there is a distinct possibility that people will fetch Mister Rutledge to hook me down," Genji replied. "An experience I do not wish to repeat, I assure you."

"Huh." The silence held for all of about two seconds. "Mind comin' back up here anyways? I can't exactly join you down there."

Genji fought the urge to laugh, standing and turning to scale the wall with grace and ease. Half-tempted to make a show of it just because Jesse was watching, even though he knew full well that Jesse would be impressed by pretty much anything. Vaulting the railing, the cyborg landed neatly on the other side and spun on his heel to lean against it much like Jesse was.

Jesse whistled. "Hot damn, darlin'. Never gonna get tired'a watchin' you do that."

"So you say." Genji lifted his hands up to take off his mask, hearing the click and hiss of the mechanism as it fell away. With the utmost care, he bent down to set it aside gently on the concrete walkway. Again, he was aware of Jesse's eyes on him, gaze raking over synthetic muscle and flesh. Too polite to touch without permission, not quite polite enough to not stare when the opportunity presented itself. Genji made sure to present plenty of opportunities. "You came to see me?" he asked, feigning innocence.

"Mmhm... Uh, I mean, yeah. Yeah I did." Jesse took a moment to clear his throat as Genji straightened to look at him. Aw, what a blush. He'd nearly forgotten his cigarillo in his distraction, hadn't he? Hanging so loosely from his fingers. "Hanzo tells me you're avoidin' him."

Genji hummed. It took no effort at all to pluck the cigarillo from Jesse's fingers and set it between his own lips. He couldn't taste it, but the motion itself was a calming thing. "Does he," he mused.

"Wouldn't tell me why though," the cowboy added. He only glanced at Genji for a moment before looking immediately in another direction, flushed down to his neckline. Cute. "So I figure you've got a reason, an' I figure he knows that reason an' he's just too chickenshit t'say it."

"He tried to manipulate you?"

"Tried t'bark orders at me, more like." Jesse puffed out his chest and stroked his metal fingers through his beard in an effort to straighten it, mimicking a preening motion. " 'You there, cowboy. You care for my brother, do you not?' " Then he dropped back into his slouch, miming a cowed and respectful posture. "And I said, well sir, if you gotta ask, then maybe you should head down to the doc for some hearin' aids, 'cause last I checked you're on the same base as us an' that puts you within a three mile radius of our room most nights."

Genji shook with quiet laughter, grinning broadly around the cigarillo and shaking his head. He loved this man.

"So then he gives me this look, an' I mean a real witherin' look, you know the kind," Jesse continued, "an' he says, 'My brother has been avoiding me of late. I am beginning to think that his offer of reconciliation was only a ruse, meant to humiliate me.' So I reply with, sir? Ain't tryin'a be mean er'nothin' but I don't see how those two sentences are related. Then he told me it was a family matter an' it ain't none'a my business, so I said, well if you're tellin' me about it then you're kinda makin' it my business."

"How are reconciliation and ruses meant to humiliate him mutually exclusive things?" Genji wondered aloud.

"Fucked if I know. Your brother operates on some kinda weird moon logic, I swear." All this clearly amused Jesse, because he was grinning too. "Now I ain't gonna ask what's up, 'cause I'm nice like that, but if you feel like you wanna tell me anythin' then I'm up for listenin'. Just sayin'."

Genji snickered. "As unsubtle as ever, Jesse."

"Aw, well. You know me, sweetheart. I aim to please."

"Mm." He took Jesse's right hand and wound their fingers together, his thoughts drifting. A family matter. None of Jesse's business. Pfah! Jesse, Zenyatta, and Overwatch were more a family to him than most of the Shimada-gumi had ever been. "There has always been... Pressure, I suppose. Both Hanzo and myself were encouraged to, ah..."

"Procreate?" Jesse supplied.

"Yes." Genji took a long drag from the pilfered cigarillo, letting out a stream of smoke when he sighed. "I cannot speak for Hanzo, but as for myself, I feel that such opinions among the family elders were what gave me so much freedom with regards to my..." He searched for a word. "Affections."

"So it ain't marriage, just kids. Somehow that's even worse." The disapproval was clear in Jesse's tone, his lips twisted in a sneer. "But what's Hanzo got to do with this, especially now?"

Genji tapped the cigarillo gently with a finger, watching the ash fall across the rocks. A tiny smear of grey on the white-gold cliffs, to be washed away with the wind and the rain. "He worries that the dragons will die with us."

"Ah, hell." Jesse cringed. "Gotta be a way around that."

"Either way, he is 'barking up the wrong tree', as you would put it. I am no longer capable, even if I were willing. And I am far less willing than I was, I assure you. A child cannot help what they are born into and has no choice about what they are forced by their family to endure, and I would not force a child to endure what a Shimada has to for the sake of their dragons."

"A child, sure. But if it's genetic, well, shit." Jesse brought his free hand up to scratch at his scruffy chin. "Ain't Angie been workin' on gene therapy for years? Ain't Jack a walkin' example'a gene therapy gone right?"

Genji sighed. "Jesse, this is not science--"

"Magic's just science we ain't explained yet," Jesse shot back. "If it's about consent, then find a willin' adult, figure out what genes do the dragon thing, an' shoot 'em up with it. That way the dragons get to keep goin' without all this blood ties bullshit makin' it all morally iffy."

The men who had made the Shimada family into an empire would call Jesse's idea downright blasphemous. At best, they'd cut out his tongue for saying it; at worst, they'd cut off his head. But Genji? Right then, he was staring at Jesse like the cowboy had just offered him an all-expenses-paid vacation on the moon. "But--" there were so many ways it could go wrong, both with the dragons and the ones volunteering, not to mention the possibility of being unable to control it, or having a dragon that was only able to partly manifest, or "--but, who would offer themselves for such a thing?"

"I would," Jesse said. No hesitation. Not a single doubt in his mind. Then, "an' I'm pretty sure Reinhardt would too, come t'think of it."

Genji smiled, unable to contain it. So foolish. His wonderful, stupid cowboy. "My brother will be scandalized," he noted.

"Darlin', if you ain't figured it out by now, I don't give a rat's ass what your brother thinks." That much was obvious. "Much more concerned about what _you_ think, t'be honest."

"I think I love you," Genji said. "Is that answer enough?"

"Love you too, sweetheart." That, too, was obvious.

 


	6. 6. laughter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> and here we bump the rating up because there is a strong implication of impending dicking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm getting to these, slowly but surely. Laughter seemed to me to be a sexy prompt, because laughter and sex are great things to put together. Didn't end up writing the actual sex though. Aw well.

It had been a very long time since Genji had been intimate with anyone. And Jesse, sweet thing that he was, seemed determined to make up for every second of lost time. "Hot _damn_ you're beautiful," the gunslinger breathed into his neck, appreciative. Genji snickered even as Jesse's lips on his synthetic skin made him want to moan.

"I can never take statements like that seriously," he remarked.

Jesse scoffed and ground against him, and he had to bite his lip to keep from making a noise. Already hard, straining against worn fabric. "Feel like I'm makin' fun'a you, darlin'?"

Genji suppressed a shiver as he grinned. "Mm. No, but you are a silly man who says silly things." He brought his hand up, ran his fingers through Jesse's hair. He wished he could feel it, knew it would be soft between his fingers. After a moment he settled for pulling Jesse's head down a bit so he could bury his nose in it instead.

He could hear the smile in Jesse's voice when the cowboy spoke again. "Cuddly, ain'tcha." Genji couldn't feel the kisses along his jawline, but he knew they were there. At least he could feel the hand that moved to cup his neck, the warmth radiating from Jesse's calloused fingers. Such gentle, reverent treatment for a thing of metal and carbon nanotubing, like Jesse was afraid he might break if handled too roughly.

And perhaps he would break. But if he did, it would be from an overabundance of care, not a lack of it. Jesse's kindness was overwhelming.

Especially when even the slightest shift in body language could cause the man to go still. "We don't have to do this, y'know," Jesse rumbled, deep and low and close to his auditory sensors.

Genji huffed. "Yes we do." What a ridiculous thing to say.

"You just seem a li'l tense, is all. Figured I'd say somethin', make sure it ain't just fer my sake."

How silly! Genji bubbled up with a laugh. "Why would I be in your bed if not by choice?"

"Well, I just thought--"

"Shhh." A finger pressed to the gunslinger's lips shut him right up; he blinked down at Genji, sheepish and confused. So cute. "I want this."

That finger trailed down, dragged along through Jesse's scruffy beard. Smoothing over rough stubble and flushed cheeks, pausing to push a lock of Jesse's hair behind his ear. The cowboy sucked in a breath, closed his eyes, leaned into the touch. "Just, hard to imagine sometimes," he mumbled. "I keep thinkin' I'll fuck this up an' chase you away somehow."

Once, maybe. Genji knew how skittish he'd been before, though he hadn't considered how that might affect the way Jesse treated him. But how could he fix such a thing? Genji had never been good at Jesse's brand of open honesty, and it wasn't exactly a problem that he could stab to death either.

Well, he could think of one surefire way to fix it. Sighing to himself, Genji put a hand on Jesse's broad chest and wrapped his legs around the man's waist; with the added leverage, it took no effort at all to flip their positions so that Genji was on top, Jesse hitting the bed with a startled _oof_. Smirking and triumphant, Genji rose up onto his knees to survey the man beneath him. His silly, perfect cowboy.

He revelled in the noise Jesse made when he ground his ass down on the tent in those jeans. "Perhaps what you need is a demonstration," he mused.

Jesse chuckled, breathless. There was only a second's hesitation before his hands found Genji's hips, cautious but appreciative. "Well hell, darlin'. You can go right on an' demonstrate anythin' you like."

(And Genji did. Several times.)

 


	7. 7. supernatural

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabe doesn't get paid enough for this crap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't even an AU, this is just my headcanon. Straight-up magic. Because there's literally no explanation I can think of for the dragons without implying that there's some magic going on. _This is the only piece of canon I cannot come up with an explanation for scientifically._ Sometimes you just gotta accept it and move on.
> 
> Is Genji blackwatch or overwatch? We just don't know. Whatever he is, Gabe has enough authority to yell at him if needed.

Gabriel was so very done.

It started when Jesse got back from a mission with the Shimada kid and his mission report said ever-so-helpfully that Genji had summoned a light-dragon thing. It hadn't been in Shimada's report from the same mission, so Gabriel assumed off the bat that it was a cyborg upgrade sort of deal. This led to him casually bringing it up with Ziegler during an appointment with her, saying _nice work with the dragon thing_.

He knew something was up when Ziegler blinked at him and went _what dragon_. Moreso when he went into detail about what Jesse had seen, and her expression morphed into something that looked a lot like confusion.

That was why he had Shimada in his office, sitting sullenly across from him on the other side of his desk. Sullen being the best word Gabriel could come up with for the slumped, disinterested body language the kid had going on, because he got the impression that even if he asked, that mask wasn't going to come off anytime soon just so he could read the kid a little better.

"So, Shimada," Gabriel began. The kid winced at the name; he made note of it for later. "That was a pretty fancy light show you put on outside Yokosuka." The cyborg tipped his head up, and Gabriel could easily imagine his haughty stare. "Don't suppose you'd know anything about that, would you?"

"You wouldn't understand," came the reply.

Gabriel pretended to ignore that comment as he continued: "Coroner came back and said the bodies had been--" here he paused, making a show of looking at his tablet, "--'mangled'. Flesh disintegrated in some places, sliced to ribbons in others. A lot like the state we found you in, actually."

No response. Gabriel cleared his throat after a moment and kept going.

"Surveillance footage and an eye-witness report from your partner seem to indicate that there was some kind of hard light construct--"

"It is no _construct_ ," the kid spat, sudden and angry. Prideful. Gabriel raised an eyebrow at him.

"Alright," he said slowly. "Mind telling me what the hell it actually was?"

Shimada ducked his head, hissing a curse and averting his gaze out of some old habit. "As I said, it is nothing you would understand."

"Try me."

"It--" The kid seemed to take a second to try and find the right words, sighing irritably when he couldn't. "It is a spirit."

"A spirit," Gabriel deadpanned.

"Yes."

"So you're telling me you conjured up a magic dragon."

Shimada recoiled as if insulted. "It is not magic. Magic is parlor tricks and sleight of hand. A child playing with cards."

Right. "Kid, this is the real world, not a fairytale dreamland. Hate to break it to you, but the kinds of mind games you probably used back in your yakuza days to scare superstitious lackeys don't work on me--"

The kid snarled and jerked out of his chair to slam his hands on Gabriel's desk, looming over it; behind him, the chair clattered to the floor, but the noise went unnoticed. To someone like Gabriel, the display read more like a tantrum than anything. "You mock me, Commander?" Shimada snapped. "If the task set before me is completed, it should not matter! Given what you ask of your Blackwatch agents on a regular basis, I would think that the talents I employ would be of little consequence so long as I continue to use them!"

The muscles in Gabriel's jaw went tight as he listened. Kid was missing the point. "I need to know that those talents, and the person behind them, aren't going to go off the rails and get any of my people killed," he said evenly. "I also need to know whether this is the kind of shit your family has the tech to make use of on the regular, because I don't want to be sending good agents into a bloodbath."

A little of the tension in Shimada's posture eased. He went silent for a long while; it took at least a half a minute for him to form a reply as he straightened his posture and mulled it over. "You worry that I would hurt McCree," he said.

"That too," Gabriel admitted.

"You do not trust me." There was the implication of a sneer in Shimada's tone. Definitely insulted.

"Not really." The phrase _not as far as I can throw you_ came to mind, but Gabriel found that such a phrase had less impact when he could probably throw a small car if he put his mind to it.

The kid seemed to consider for a moment. Still bristling, but more in control of himself. "If I show you," he said, "will it be enough to demonstrate that I am in control?"

"Depends. Will I survive it if you do?"

"I did not harm McCree, nor will I harm you." Absolutely solemn, totally confident in his own abilities. "Please. It will be difficult to explain otherwise."

Gabriel sighed. Right, well, if he did end up mutilated, at least Jesse would know who'd done it and enact some proper Blackwatch-style justice on the little shit. "Just, whatever. Do your thing, I guess."

Shimada nodded sagely, taking a deep, steadying breath that sounded odd through the filters in his mask. Centering himself for his trick or something, Gabriel didn't know. Because all Gabriel knew was that not a second later, his whole office lit up with blindingly bright green, and suddenly there was a _goddamn motherfucking dragon_ that seemed to spring from the kid's back out of fucking nowhere. A dragon that was about three feet long from nose to, to tail? No, that wasn't a tail, it didn't end in a tail, it ended in what looked like shattered glass remnants of a tail and what remained of a hind leg.

And it was a fucking dragon. It really was. Winding itself around Shimada's neck like a scarf made of that faintly radioactive glassware that glowed under a blacklight. A mobile, cuddly glass scarf.

It turned its head to peer at Gabriel, who leaned back in his chair with a soft _whump_.

"Jesus fucking Christ," he mumbled. "Alright, color me intrigued. Tell me more about your magical pet murder-dragon."

(He was going to need a drink after this.)

 


End file.
